


We're All Just Programs, But That's Okay

by Thranduils_Bossy_Elk



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Dorian is insecure, Fluff, John reassures him, M/M, These two need each other SO BAD, almost boyfriends, almost husbands, handjobs, jorian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thranduils_Bossy_Elk/pseuds/Thranduils_Bossy_Elk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets suspended for a couple days, and in his moodiness hurts Dorian's feelings.  Dorian tells John he needs to be needed, that's what he's designed for, and John finally understands.  Fluff, making out, schmoop, Jorian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're All Just Programs, But That's Okay

**Author's Note:**

> I just. . .just.. JORIANNNNNNNNN

_“Kennex!”_

Captain Maldonado’s voice barked out sharply, making John grit his teeth and swivel his chair around to face her.  He was going to to get it but good now.

“My office!” she growled, “Now!”

Dorian threw John a look that said “Busted!!”, laughing in surprise when John pulled the tab on the bottom of his swivel chair, making it sink quickly under Dorian’s weight.  John stalked off, ignoring the whispers and snickers around the office.  

Maldonado closed the glass door behind him and marched behind her desk.  

“John, you know what this is about.” she said, eyes fierce.

John’s face was innocent as possible, his dark brows drawn up in what he clearly thought was a quizzical expression but in reality just made him look guiltier than ever.

“You locked Detective Paul’s MX in the men’s bathroom with him?” Maldonado asked.

John grinned widely at that, his smile flashing.  

“Yeah, well Detective Paul said to watch my ass and so I figured let him practice whatever he wanted to do to my ass on the MX.  Work it outta his system, y’know?”

Maldonado’s lips were a thin line.  She sighed.

“John, you know I don’t have any great love for Richard but I _need_ my precinct to work together.  I need to you be the better man here.  Cause he sure won’t be.”

John began to argue back.

“Come on Captain, you know---”

She cut him off.

“Yes, John, I _do_ know.  I know that whatever dick move Detective Paul pulls you need to be better than that!”

John’s face darkened.

Maldonado leaned on her desk, clearly unhappy.

“John, I have to suspend you for a couple days for this.”

John opened his mouth in outrage.

“What!?  Captain, you know how Paul is, he’s a dick, to me, to Dorian, to Valerie--”

“God, Kennex, I know!” Maldonado cut through him.  “But you’re suspended for two days, and when you come back I need you to start being this precinct's glue, not the scissors that cut us all apart.”

John started to argue again.

“Nope, go on Kennex.  Outta here.”

 

 

“What’d she say?” asked Dorian as John stomped out of the office, brows pulled together angrily.  He ground his teeth.

“Suspended.  Two days.” John grabbed his jacket and began leaving.  

“Wait, John--”

John turned, shoulders hunched moodily.

“You stay here, get some of that paperwork done if you can.  I just need a few hours to myself.” He sighed heavily.  “I’ll pick you up at 7 and take you home to Rudy’s”

Dorian watched John leave, his face falling.  

“Ok.”

 

* * *

 

 

John tossed back his shot of vodka.  His. . . sixth?  He couldn’t remember anymore and he didn't want to.  His blood boiled every time he heard Maldonado’s voice in his head, suspending him.  He felt so useless.  Here he was, a washed-up cop in a washed-up bar.  

_“Be the better man. . .”_

He snorted and took another drink.  

His phone vibrated in his pocket.  John fished through his coat for a minute before he located the tiny buzzing wafer and was able to answer it.  

“H’lo?” he yelled into the mic.  

“John?  Where are you, man?”

Dorian.

“What?” John slurred.  “Whatcha want?”

“You were supposed to take me home, John!  Where are you?”

John fuzzily tried to read the bar’s name.

“S’a bar.  Cop bar.”

Dorian sighed audibly on the other end.  “Nevermind, I’m coming to get _you_ ,” he said.  “Just sit tight.”

John grunted and hung up.  He motioned to the bartender and another tumblr of the clear liquid was placed in front of him.  Good.  

 

 

Dorian hung up after John’s click.  He’d been waiting on the precinct steps for over an hour.   He’d wanted to give John his space, but John had just forgotten him.  

_A voice in the back of his head whispered ‘he’ll always forget you.’_

He’d asked Detective Stahl for a ride home, but she was heading the opposite direction as Rudy’s place and was late for a dinner.  He didn’t want to keep her, so he said it was fine and not to worry.  She’d smiled at him and left.  Soon the precinct was almost empty, just Dorian waiting out front alone.  

The blue electronics in his cheek flashed; the bar John’s call had come from was five blocks south of the precinct.  Dorian turned up his coat collar against the slight drizzle and, without hesitating, began to walk.  

 

 

When he arrived at the bar, the drizzle had turned into a heavier downpour and Dorian was soaked through.  He wasn’t programmed to feel cold, as such, but he felt wet and uncomfortable.  He pushed the door open, and ducked inside, letting his eyes adjust to the gloomy interior.  

“Hey, whaddaya want, bot?”

Dorian turned to see a short, squat man glaring at him with narrowed eyes.  He looked unkept.  

“Just looking for someone.” Dorian replied, scanning the bar for John before the guy could tell him to leave.  

The guy grunted.  “We don't’ need things like you ‘round here.”

 _Things_.

Dorian ignored him, pushing deeper into the bar and looking out for John.  Finally he spotted him: he had his elbows propped on the bar and was staring down into a tumbler of booze.  

“C’mon, John, let’s get outta here.”

John just kept staring.  All the fight had gone out of him.  For one of the first times, Dorian thought he might understand how John felt.  

Abandoned.

John didn’t move.  With brief hesitation, Dorian slipped an arm around his waist and dragged John’s other arm over his shoulder and began helping him walk out of the bar.  People turned to stare.  One cop laughed openly, pointing the pair out to his buddies.  Dorian ground his teeth but kept his head down, trying to get John to move faster.  

When they were finally on the street, Dorian prodded John in the ribs and said loudly over the noise of the rain:

“Where’s the car, John?”

John was using his height advantage to push Dorian off himself, but Dorian wouldn’t be swatted aside easily.  

“‘Round, back.” John mumbled, hair plastered down with water.  

“Ok let’s go.  I’m driving.” Dorian said shortly.

John’s eyes flew open at that, and he started going through his pockets for his keys.

“No way are you drivin’!” he said, slightly panicked.

Dorian jingled the keys he’d already taken from John’s pocket.  

“Gimme those--”

“Nope, John, in the backseat you go.”

Dorian shoved John into the backseat, getting him tangled up as he tried to fold his long legs inside as well.  John promptly rolled over on his side and fell asleep.  Dorian slammed the car door and got in the driver’s seat, starting the engine.  

 

 

As he drove, Dorian found himself getting more and more pissed at John.  Sure, he’d been suspended, that sucked.  But Dorian was his _partner_.  John was supposed to be able to share these frustrations with him and Dorian was actually programmed to respond to emotions.  Dorian didn’t want to feel left behind.  He wanted to be there for John to vent to.  He jerked the wheel slightly harder than was necessary making a left turn and John groaned groggily in the backseat.  

“Almost home.” Dorian assured him grudgingly.  Because despite his own frustration at John, Dorian never wanted to see John sad or alone.  

 

* * *

 

They arrived at John’s apartment complex and Dorian pulled the car around to the alley where John parked it.  He switched off the engine and climbed out, hurrying because it was still raining.  He opened the backseat and grabbed John’s arms but he didn’t want to budge.  Raising his face to the heavens, Dorian rolled his eyes.  

“John, c’mon, man!  Get your lazy butt outta the car.”

John just mumbled.

Dorian sighed exasperatedly and climbed into the backseat to get better leverage.  Just as he managed to prop John up against the seat, John’s decided to lean all his weight on Dorian and he promptly lost his balance totally and rolled off John into the foot space between the front and back seats.  

Trapped, Dorian squirmed to get himself out of the tight space.  The seats were squashing his broad shoulders.  

Suddenly there was a hand on his, helping him out.  John appeared to have woken up for long enough to grasp Dorian’s hand in his own and tug him off the car’s floorboards.  John pulled him out, and then suddenly Dorian was sitting really, really close to John, squashed against the car door and his bulk.  

“Hey, alright, let’s get you out.” Dorian said, forgetting his anger just a little.

“Th’nks.” John mumbled.

“What?”  
“You came’n got me.” John’s eyes were alert, even if his speech slurred slightly.  “I know I forgot you.”  He was watching Dorian closely, eyes a little lowered in shame.  

Dorian’s jaw tightened.  “Yeah, you did.  I waited out there in front of the precinct for hours, man.” He looked away.  “You know, John, I don’t mind that so much, really.  I know I’m just your _synthetic_.” He spat the ugly word.  “But I’m also here for you so that when you _do_ get suspended and feel like getting drunk, you can tell me!  And I’ll always come get you. . .” Dorian paused.  “. . . Cause that’s the point of me.”

John had stayed silent during Dorian’s speech, his eyes never leaving the other man’s face.   

“I just. . . I’m programmed to respond to need.” Dorian finished.  “When you don’t need me. . .as a partner, as a cop, as anything. . . then it’s like I don’t exist.”  He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, away from John’s.  

For a few seconds there was silence.  Dorian could feel John pressed against his side.  He wasn’t making any move to get away.  Outside the rain pounded on the car’s roof.  Dorian just felt so unwanted.  He knew the other detectives would never have much use for him but John was supposed to have been different.

“Dorian.”

Dorian lifted his gaze to find John’s face next to his, his dark eyes wide.  

With the barest hint of hesitation, John closed the few inches between their faces and bumped his lips a little awkwardly against Dorian’s.  

Neither one pulled away.  Dorian breathed in John’s scent: musk and gun oil and soap, and opened his mouth a little in surprise and confusion.  John’s tongue pushed inside slowly, as if he were tasting Dorian.  

Dorian had nowhere to move, pinned against the car door as he was.  All he could focus on was John licking inside his mouth, hot tongue moving over his own.  John said something against Dorian’s mouth, but he couldn’t make it out.  

“Wh-?” Dorian breathed, and now John’s hands had circled his waist.  

John pulled back for a second, his lips swollen and pink.  

“I said, you exist.  ‘Cause I need you.”  John looked in awe of Dorian.  He pressed his lips against the blue electronics in his cheek and felt Dorian’s smooth skin against them.  

“I’m always gonna need you.”

Dorian felt something thrill through his skin at that.  He closed his eyes and let John breathe against his neck.  But he couldn’t let go of the thing that was hardest to say.

“John,” he started, “Wh-what if--- I mean, maybe I’m just a bunch of programming.  I don’t even know if there’s a me in here.”  Dorian’s voice shook.  “Not for sure.”

John sat back for a moment, watching Dorian closely.  

“Doesn’t matter.”

Dorian looked surprised.  

“Of course it matters--”

“Nope.” John was serious.  “I’m just a bunch of programming too.  I’m all hardwired instinct, and genetic code, and inherited traits. . . and also . . . need.  There’s no difference.”

Dorian was looking at John like there was nothing else left in the world.  

“You really think that?” he breathed.

John nodded.  “Only about you.  You’re the only one.”

Then Dorian laughed a little breathlessly.  

“John, you’re still drunk!  That’s why you’re sayin’ all these nice things, man.  Tomorrow I’ll be back to coffee-warmer status.”

John grinned that devil-may-care smile that lit up his whole face and made Dorian's chest hitch.  

“I’m not drunk.”

He began rubbing against Dorian a little, their position upright facing each other making the friction between their jeans send all sorts of confused signals through Dorian’s head .  Dorian let his fingers graze against John’s zipper, making him buck up and reach for more.  He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against John’s neck, feeling the stubble and roughness under his tongue.  

Dorian’s system was awash with new sensations.  He’d never felt so acutely before, taking in every detail of how John felt, and sounded, and moved against him.  

“I just wanna be needed, man.” Dorian whispered.  “By you.”

John brought his mouth closer.  He looked a little scared but began kissing Dorian open-mouthed anyways.  Dorian was reciprocating wonderfully, his back arching and hips thrusting forward to meet John’s.  The only light was coming from Dorian’s cheek flashing blue and a far-off streetlamp that glowed orange.

John peeled back Dorian’s outer jacket and slid his hand up inside his shirt.  Dorian tensed up a little.  

“Y’ever been touched like this before?” John asked quietly.

Dorian’s eyes were wide but he looked like he didn’t want it to stop.

“N-no, not like this--” he started, and then John moved his hand up and lightly pinched one of Dorian’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger.  He rolled the hard bud around a little and grinned while Dorian’s mouth opened and closed in surprise.

Dorian’s hips were responding well to the pinching, bucking up a little faster into John’s.  The clink and rasp of their zippers against each other made John pant a little faster, and he quickened his strokes on Dorian’s nipple, his other hand fisted up in Dorian’s jacket.  

“Hey, hey John, wait a minute.”

John stopped his rubbing, eyes finding Dorian’s in the half-light.  

Dorian put a hand against John’s chest.

“That felt really good,” he started, clumsily.  “I wanna make you feel the same way, that is--” Dorian fumbled for words as he raised his eyes to John’s.  “Can I touch you that way too?”

John nodded quickly, suddenly quiet though.  

“You scared?” Dorian asked quietly.

John nodded.  “I haven’t been with anyone since--well since Anna.” he mumbled.  

Dorian smiled.  “It’s ok.”

Dorian reached for John’s zipper and pulled it down slowly.  He could feel the tension that sprang to John’s legs, and they tightened.  His own hands were shaking a little.  John might not have been with anyone since Anna, but Dorian had never touched someone this way before.  Touching John felt right, felt wonderful.  He was John’s partner, he would always have John’s back and he tried to bring that same trust to the way he began slowly pushing John’s jeans and boxers down his hips.  John moved backwards along the seat a little to make it easier for Dorian and shuddered in response, raising his eyes to the car’s ceiling and moaning a little between clenched teeth.  Dorian looked up to check that everything was still ok and John nodded for him to keep going.  

When Dorian had got John’s jeans pulled down his thighs a little, he turned his attention to the synthetic leg.  

“Can you feel it when I touch your leg, John?” Dorian asked.

John shook his head no.  

Dorian ran his fingers slowly up the leg, searching for the point where it stopped being artificial and started being real.  John was breathing a little faster.  Dorian noticed that his cheeks had gotten red and he was looking away from Dorian’s hand.

“What’s wrong?”

John seemed unhappy.

“Um, s’just the leg.  I hate touching it, and no one’s ever touched it before.” he muttered.  

Dorian’s hands stilled, but didn’t leave the leg.  

“John, your leg is part of you.  It’s ok.”

John still looked embarrassed, and his brows contracted over still-flushed cheeks.  

Dorian moved his hands gently again over the line where John’s real leg began, and then slowly, slowly up into the crease between his thigh and the root of his dick.  He rubbed there for a moment, letting John’s uncomfortability ebb away as it was replaced by the sensation of Dorian’s hand in that spot.  

“Don’t be ashamed of your leg, man,” Dorian said softly.  “It’s ok to let things become a part of you.”

John nodded a little, eyes meeting Dorian’s.  His mouth opened a little in surprise when Dorian hesitantly wrapped a hand around his dick and began stroking it gently.  

“Y-yeah, oh man Dorian, yeah-” the words spilled out of John’s mouth before he could stop them.  

Dorian pumped faster, the slickness under his fingers making his hand slide over John’s cock.  He pushed forward so that John was leaned back against the seat and then straddled him with his back to the windshield.  John’s breath was hot against Dorian’s neck, and as Dorian pumped him John began sucking at his neck, little bite marks trailing.  Dorian’s skin was smooth, almost impossibly so, and John’s mouth became erratic as he was flushed with pleasure.  

Dorian’s hand was moving faster and harder, the muscles in his arm clearly flexing under his half open jacket as he stroked John’s spasming cock.  The sight of John’s jeans tangled around his shaking thighs made Dorian pump deeper, imaging what John would look like completely naked.  As if wondering the same thing about him, John reached for Dorian’s zipper and began pulling it down, the rhythm of Dorian’s hand resounding in his movements.  He slid his hands inside Dorian’s jeans, pulling them down a little and then holding Dorian by the small of his back and pulling him closer.  

John’s face was buried in Dorian’s neck, his hands under Dorian’s shirt as his orgasm approached.  John’s thighs shook, heat pooling in his stomach, and then with a deep moan he came all over Dorian’s hand.  Dorian took in the sight of John, wrecked, with his jeans around his thighs and his shirt half open.  The car's windows were fogged and John was breathing open-mouthed against Dorian's pulse point as the last spasms wracked his frame.    

Dorian smiled against John’s temple, breathing wonderfully hard.

“Been awhile, huh?”

John nodded wordlessly.  

Then, with hesitation and a little fear:

“Am I a real person?” Dorian whispered into John’s hair.

John set his lips against Dorian’s throat.

“Yeah,” he growled softly.  “Realer than real.”  

Then:

“-- _And I’m not ever gonna stop needing you.”_


End file.
